


It All Started One Christmas in the Vents

by Atros



Series: Katanas and Arrows [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, Holidays, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, People are probably a bit OOC, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Probably needs more tags, Protective Wade, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Wade is a Kate Bishop fan, Wade is wade, but isn't everyone?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atros/pseuds/Atros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint just wanted to find some relief from his nightmares, but he ended up finding something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is drawn heavily from the cinematic universe, but will totally ignore Laura as a character. I wrote this from the prompt 'A major holiday comes along and hijinks ensue.' It probably deviates heavily from that.
> 
> Not too much sexual content yet, will work on that as chapters are posted.

Clint woke up in a cold sweat. He could still feel the cold energy coming from the scepter Loki pressed against him, the blue creeping over him as the metal dug into his skin. He could still feel the chill that controlled him as he killed all those people. The almost non-existent praise that Loki gave him for his efficiency. Over a year gone since Natasha had brought him back, a year since Tony let him move into the Tower, less than a year since the ventilation rework for his comfort quirks. Tony was a great guy.

When Clint woke up like this, drenched in sweat and shivering from a chill that didn’t exist in the temperature controlled Tower, he ran to the comfort of the vents. When Jarvis had first found him in there, a concerned Tony had asked Nat about it. “That’s just how Barton is. Even back in S.H.I.E.L.D. you could always find him in the vents if you needed him for an emergency. Phil always let him be about it. I understand too. It’s just one of his things.”

And the day after Tony had banished him from the Tower for a week. When Clint came back the vents had been redone to allow for comfortable movement without losing the feeling of enclosure. Honestly, Tony was too good to Clint sometimes. He even had a cleaning program set up so Clint wouldn’t be in dust all the time.

So here Clint was, still covered in a fine layer of sweat, panicking from the feeling of ice along his nerves and the blue glow he swore he could feel but not see, dressed only in loose sleep pants with his bow and quiver in hand, crawling through the vents at just after 1 am on Christmas day.

He finally calmed down once he hit the common floor’s vents, finally realizing that he couldn’t hear anything. He had run off without his ears again. At least it was a common enough occurrence now so Jarvis could send a cleaning bot into the vents to warn him if there was an alarm or anything. Not like it honestly mattered though, he hadn’t joined the others on a mission since the Chitauri invasion. If he couldn’t trust himself to stay calm he wouldn’t endanger the others with his panic attacks.

It was with those heavy thoughts weighing down his mind that he caught sight of something….odd crossing in front of him several meters ahead. He….really didn’t want it to be what he thought it was, but honestly he had no other ideas. Granted, believing that Deadpool was crawling around your vents on Christmas, complete with Santa hat and a rather large and bulging bag, was never a comforting idea.

As he made his way to what he thought was Deadpool’s location, he debated what to do. Jarvis hadn’t given an alarm, so either Deadpool wasn’t here on business, or had actually managed to get past the security systems. And yet again, neither was really all that comforting to think about. Where the mercenary was concerned, nothing was really comforting. The surprisingly controlled chaos that followed the mercenary either swept you up or ripped you apart. There was just no avoiding it. Resigned to at least try to limit the damage Deadpool might cause, Clint braced himself to join chaos for the night. At least he didn’t have to listen to the mercenary’s constant chatter; this was the one time Clint might actually be glad he left his ears behind.

As Clint rounded the corner, he twitched. Deadpool’s masked face was inches from his own, the features seemingly expressing intense joy at seeing Clint. The mercenary was gesturing wildly to Clint, implying that the mercenary had started his never ending chatter. Clint held up his hand and Deadpool immediately stopped moving. “I can’t hear you Deadpool, and before you start talking louder trying to wake everyone up, I’m deaf so even that won’t let me hear you.”

Deadpool’s head tilted to one side, as if he was considering Clint’s words. And much to Clint’s surprise, the mercenary lifted up the bottom of his mask and started signing to him. **_I didn’t expect anyone to be awake Legolas! I was just trying to leave some presents for my favorite Avengers --- He doesn’t need to know that --- Yeah yeah alright the point I know you guys I don’t need to be reminded._**

 _ **So you’re actually just giving us presents? Why didn’t you wait until morning or something and just leave them with the receptionist on the ground floor?**_ Clint wondered if that’s why Jarvis didn’t alert anyone. Maybe Deadpool was honestly here leaving actual Christmas gifts. The guy did spend a lot of time trying to get the team’s attention, desperate for any kind of recognition from them. And thinking back to his file, he had been drafted into an experimental program on the basis that it would possibly make him a hero.

Deadpool pouted. _**Well the last time I tried that the receptionist didn’t like the hea- I mean present- so I figured this year a little TLC was needed, you know, some personal touches to show I care-**_ Clint remembered last year alright. Tony had to find a new receptionist after the other quit due to PTSD from Deadpool’s ‘gifts’ and Tony’s manic personality. At least the new one didn’t get flustered by Deadpool’s behavior.

And suddenly, Clint’s personal space was invaded. He realized belatedly that he had violated the cardinal rule when dealing with Deadpool: Don’t ignore or lose track of the mercenary. Deadpool had apparently felt put out by Clint’s wandering attention and had shuffled forward to peer intently at the archer. His gloved hands were on the archer’s bare shoulders, the partially masked face far too close for comfort, spandex pressing against the archer’s forehead. Clint could smell the musk, blood and gunpowder that made up the mercenary’s scent, and rather than being off putting like the other Avengers found it, Clint could feel himself relaxing minutely. The combination of Deadpool’s scent, the hands bracing him and the touching of their foreheads reminded him of field ops with old S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, the quiet comfort of another agent checking your status without words, offering support without question. Clint let his eyes close briefly.

Not a second later Clint felt those reassuring gloves leave his shoulders. He may have given a brief whine, not that he’d ever admit to it, before something soft was draped over his shoulders. He opened his eyes to Deadpool’s mask still filling his field of vision, and flicked his eyes down to notice a blanket covering his bare arms. He looked back up at Deadpool, then mouthed Thank you. Clint watched as the mask crinkled up in what appeared to be actual happiness. _Anything for my favorite archer_ Clint read on chapped lips.

Clint set aside his bow and quiver, showing the mercenary how much trust he had for him. He watched the mask’s ‘eyes’ widen at the action, before Clint settled in to get comfortable. If Deadpool was with him, at least he wasn’t doing damage somewhere else in the Tower. And besides, Clint hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days so he didn’t really mind just sitting around doing nothing. He settled back, resting his forearms on his thighs, took a deep breath of Deadpool’s scent, and closed his eyes as the mercenary kept watch.

Clint woke up with a jolt. He looked around in a daze, not recognizing his surroundings at first. Metal walls, ventilation system. Small cleaner bots scuttling past, ventilation system of the Tower then. Soft fabric covering his chest, must’ve gotten a blanket before nesting last night. Arms tightening around his waist, clothed cheek against his temple, hard chest pressed against his back, he had no idea about that. Clint froze, tensed a little. One of the arms tightened more in response, gloved hand rubbing over his hip comfortingly. The other arm moved from his stomach slowly, as if the person was trying not to spook him. Slowly a red leather clad arm rose from beneath the blanket, a black gloved hand holding something carefully. The hand opened up slowly, cautiously, revealing Clint’s ears. The small innocuous aids glinted up at him cheerfully from that black leather covered hand. And he remembered the previous night- well, technically it was during the same morning, but that wasn’t the point.

Clint had apparently fallen asleep resting his forehead against Deadpool’s. Sometime after, Deadpool must’ve ran off to get his ears, which meant Clint would have to check the Tower for any traps or tampering later. Still, the mercenary had probably went to get them after having to be silent for so long earlier, and the gesture was appreciated. But the very act of handing them to Clint so carefully, after keeping them close by for what must’ve been hours while Clint slept, was almost… touching. Clint removed one arm from the confines of the ridiculously comfortable and suspiciously Deadpool-esque blanket and took the aids from Deadpool’s hand.

The gloved hand reached up to gently swipe the unruly hair far away from Clint’s left ear. Clint reached up and put in the aid, doing the same to the right after the hair was swept away again. The soft noises of breathing in the vent were almost too loud for Clint after a full night kept in silence. The hand still near Clint’s ear stroked down his cheek, leather scraping against stubble as the fingers traced his jawline. The gloved hand reached his neck, a finger gently stroking his jugular, making Clint swallow thickly before the hand wrapped loosely around his throat. He raised his hand to rest on the wrist, not removing the hand wrapped around his throat, just acknowledging it. Deadpool gave a soft noise at the motion.

“I went out to poke around the Tower and find where you stashed your aids Katniss. As much as I loved signing to you earlier, and really I love waving my hands around and having someone just get what I’m saying, but you know how hard it is to keep my mouth shut.” Deadpool’s voice wasn’t heard so much as it was felt. Clint felt something tighten inside him, warmth spreading throughout his body as the hand around his neck tightened subtly.

“Yeah I remember Deadpool. Why’re you still here? I thought you were just here to deliver gifts and be on your merry way or whatever it is that you do.” Clint could barely think with those hands barely touching him. He honestly had no idea why he was so responsive to Deadpool of all people, the guy probably had no idea what he was even doing to Clint.

“Well see that’s the problem Legolas. I was going to deliver gifts to all the good Avenging boys and girls, but then you had to go and be wandering around the vents ruining the surprise. And really, what’s the point to Santa presents if someone’s got to be that one kid who tells the others Santa’s not real? Honestly it’s like you’ve never been a kid before! So in a brilliant plan I had thought to distract you with my devilish charms, but then you go and tell me you’re deaf! What’s the point of being charming if the person you’re charming can’t even hear you!?” Clint was debating whether or not to tune out Deadpool at this point, because that voice with the touches on his hip and the hand on his throat were going to kill him at this rate.

“And then while we’re talking I just had to notice that you had circles under your eyes, and being the good friend that I am, I decided to help you get some shut eye, because really, we can’t have our favorite archer losing focus from lack of sleep now can we?” And there went Clint’s resolve to ignore or tune out Deadpool. Deadpool’s voiced had turned low towards the end as the mercenary turned his head to talk against Clint’s skin. He should probably go in later to one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. shrinks, try to figure out why the hand against his throat made him feel safe and not threatened, why the arm pressing him against the hard planes of Deadpool’s chest made him feel relaxed and not constricted. And why the one voice that nearly everyone wanted to gouge out their eardrums after listening to for hours was getting him aroused. Because really, there shouldn’t be any reason to be aroused by such an annoying person after just one night of surprisingly tender gestures.

“When was the last time you slept a full night Hawkguy?” Almost 3 days ago now, Clint thought. “Because the only one here that shouldn’t be able to sleep is me. And you’re a sniper, you should know better than anyone to get what sleep you can because you never know when you’ll have to go without.” To true, but it’s not like he went out on missions with the others anymore. They kept trying but… Clint just couldn’t trust himself around them. “So when you reacted so well to me checking your condition I figured, why not give my favorite Hawkeye the present of a good night’s sleep?” Clint shivered as he felt a spandex covered cheek rub against his hair.

“You know many Hawkeyes then?” Clint closed his eyes and leaned into the cheek nuzzling his hair.

“Well I mean… there is Kate but she’s not in the universe yet.” Kate? Clint decided not to even ask. “Anyway, I let you fall asleep because you just looked so cute and tired, and I tried to go take care of my actual mission of being Santa. But you got all whiny when I tried to leave so I tucked you in against the wall and at least went to grab your aids, because I know you had to have some. And I love your apartment be-tee-dubs, fantastic bow collection. Then I came on back to you and you stopped having whatever nightmare you were having.” With that comment Clint’s eyes snapped open and his body tensed. Deadpool had driven away his nightmares? Clint picked up soft chatter coming from below them. Tony and Bruce must be awake now.

“I didn’t get to set up the gifts downstairs earlier, so I guess you’ll have to take them all for yourself Legolas. Way to ruin everyone’s Christmas.” Clint felt the chuckle rumble through the chest behind him, the smile against his hair. “But maybe that’s what you really wanted huh? Naughty little Robin Hood, stealing all the rich kids’ presents.”

“Oh? You going to punish me for it Deadpool? After all, I didn’t even leave you cookies and milk.” Tony did though. God only knows why but Tony did that every year. Probably woke up in the middle of the night to come down and eat them too. Hell, Clint didn’t even know why he did half the things he did, let alone why Tony did shit. Take for instance right now: Clint had no idea why he was flirting with Deadpool of all people, in Tony Stark’s fancy ventilation system he designed specifically for Clint’s quirks.

The mercenary stilled behind him. “… Wade.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Wade. I’ll accept that instead of cookies this time.” The hand squeezed briefly around Clint’s neck. “Of course, you’ll still owe me cookies at a later date.”

Clint smiled. “Sure thing Wade, I’ll bake those up for next time.”

“Oh he said next time guys! How exciting!” Deadpool squealed in delight as the arm draped over Clint’s chest crushed him back against the firm body behind him, alerting him to yet another rather firm object pressing against Clint’s back. Clint felt the air leave his body as he felt that hard length against him. And any pretense that Clint had about laughing this off as just another random night in the vents vanished out the grate as he became acutely aware of just how hard he was as well. “Can I unwrap my present now snookum?” Clint shivered at those words, focusing on the utterly filthy turn this morning was taking.

“If you didn’t I’d be severely disappointed.” The hand on Hawkeye’s hip swept low over his hip, teasing against the waistband of his sleep pants. “Don’t have all morning Wade.”

And like Deadpool- no Wade- had been waiting for his name to be spoken, the still gloved hand dipped beneath the waistband and teasingly ran over Clint’s thighs. Clint let out a whine at the teasing touches.

“Clint? Are you in the vents?” Clint jumped at the sound of Bruce right below. The physicist’s tired voice sounded concerned.

“Uh yeah, I just had a nightmare and figured I’d try sleeping in the vents for a while. Guess I had another one while dozing off- fuck!!” Wade’s hand gently cupped Clint’s balls, the leather encasing the sensitive skin. Clint’s leg twitched and hit the side of the vent, causing a loud clang to be heard below.

“Are you alright up there? Do you need one of us to help you out of the vent?” Clint would’ve laughed at Bruce’s alarmed concern for his safety if Wade hadn’t dipped his head down to latch onto Clint’s neck. The hand on his neck had moved just enough to allow that mouth to busy itself with leaving a mark on Clint’s skin.

“I’m fine, just- damn- perfectly peachy up here Bruce!” The hand on Clint’s balls had shifted, moving up to wrap around his already leaking member. The leather encased thumb swept over the leaking head, spreading the pre-cum around to lubricate the surprisingly exquisite hand-job Wade was giving him. Maybe he had a leather kink, cause there’s no way Clint should’ve been enjoying it as much as he was.

“Well you better come out soon, Natasha’s going to be here any minute and Steve’s brining Bucky over soon as well. You know how Steve is about you being in the vents during ‘team bonding’, he’ll send Natasha up to drag you out anyway.” Oh god, Clint didn’t want to imagine the smirks and sly looks he’d be getting from Nat if she caught him with someone in the vents, let alone catching him with Wade. But damn if it wasn’t hot getting a hand job while Bruce was right below him. Another kink to examine at a later date he supposed.

“Yeah, alright I’ll be down soon- Christ!” Wade seemed to be enjoying himself far too much, twisting his wrist so perfectly when Clint was trying to keep his composure for Bruce’s sake, and god Wade’s thumb just kept sweeping over the head on every down stroke.

“Well, I’ll be around if you need emergency medical assistance I suppose. Sounds like the vent’s winning this time Barton.” And thank god Bruce’s voice drifted off away from the vent with accompanying footsteps. Clint bit his lip to keep from moaning as Wade’s hand sped up.

“Nonono Legolas, can’t have to ruining those pretty lips of yours. Bit down on these instead.” The hand that was wrapped around Clint’s throat stroked up to his mouth, two leather clad fingers working their way into Clint’s mouth. Clint let a strangled whimper escape as his senses were filled with the taste and feel of leather, the unique scent of Wade filling him up with that tentative sense of trust and comfort. Maybe it was just a Wade kink then. A deep chuckle filled the vent. “Wish it was something besides my fingers in that mouth of yours Legolas. Maybe another time huh?”

Clint bucked his hips up into Wade’s hand, his tongue running over and around the fingers in his mouth, giving another pathetic whimper at the punishing pace Wade set, the slick leather of Wade’s gloves stroking both his cock and his tongue. Clint reached down and gripped at the thighs on either side of his waist, trying to find something to dig his fingers in to kick from losing himself to the pleasure.

“Clint? Are you… watching porn in my vents? Because I have to tell you, that’s totally not what I had in mind when I widened those vents.” Tony’s incredulous voice drifted up to Clint, but all he could hear was the low chuckle against his skin. “I’m sending Nat up in 30 seconds Barton. The cleaning bots shouldn’t need to deal with your… ugh…messes. I don’t need to make a therapy program for them.” And Tony walked off.

“Come on my little archer, we don’t have much time left. Time to make the money shot- heh money shot.” Clint felt the smile against his neck, could feel himself reaching the edge, just needed a little push. “Come on Clint, come for little ole Deadpool.” Clint bit down on the fingers in his mouth at the same time Wade bit down on his neck. A strangled moan made its way out as Clint came harder than he had in what felt like years. Wade kept pumping him lazily through his orgasm, nuzzling into Clint’s neck.

“Barton, I’m giving you 10 seconds to be decent before I drag you out of the vent.” And there went Clint’s afterglow, killed before it even had a chance to breathe. Natasha’s voice could cut through even an orgy full of horny teenagers. The comforting warmth against Clint’s back immediately fled as Wade vanished around a corner in the vents, leaving Clint with damp sleep pants and a Deadpool styled blanket wrapped around him to preserve what small dignity he had left. Nat’s head popped up a few feet away from him, taking in his disheveled state with ease, a small smirk adorning her face. “I see someone had a very Merry Christmas. You know Tony’s going to have a fit when he finds out someone slipped past his security.”

Clint gave her his best poker face. “What makes you so sure someone was up here with me huh? I could’ve just had a weird night full of porn and presents.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t put that past you when you’re bored Clint, but even you’re not flexible enough to leave hickeys on your own neck.” Nat gave him a smile. “At least you look a lot more relaxed, so I won’t press the issue. Come on, Steve’s going to be here soon.” As Natasha dropped down from the vent to give him some small privacy, Clint couldn’t help bringing a hand to his neck. He might just have to call on the services of a certain mercenary soon.


	2. New Year's Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intruder on New Year's Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frottage later on in chapter.

Every New Year’s was the same. Tony threw parties, invited his investors and colleagues, and lately would ‘wow’ them with the rest of the Avengers. Most of the Avengers didn’t mind the extra attention. Tony practically lived off attention and had spent a good portion of his career at parties like this anyway. Thor was pretty much Asgard’s party god, always up for a good time whether it be a feast or fight. Rhodes, when invited or duty permitted, was always present to attempt to gain recognition as War Machine (or whatever he was calling himself these days); Sam was the same, he enjoyed the attention being an Avenger gave him, even if he hated the actual duties that went with the title. Natasha always did as asked, so an invitation to a party was treated as a PR mission. Bruce would smile and try to hide in the quietest corner he could find, inevitably trying and failing at being left alone. Steve would just go along with the flow of the party, keeping an eye out on everyone, especially Bucky who would be looking horribly out of place and uncomfortable. And Clint, well Clint would normally be sipping a drink and mingling, keeping an eye out for his team like he used to at S.H.I.E.L.D.

With Tony’s constant improvements to his aids, Clint could get a steady stream of info on the other guests of the party, the AI’s voice quietly filtering into his ears, pausing to allow any of the others to cut in with their own remarks. Of course, after the incident with Loki and his scepter, Clint didn’t feel comfortable mingling with people, not even feeling completely comfortable when it was just the team. So instead of being the trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he should’ve been acting like, he acted like the reclusive sniper he was, staying in the rafters keeping an eye on the proceedings from above.

Clint sat in the specially designed ‘nest’ Tony had constructed for him. Tucked into a far corner of the penthouse’s large communal area, it looked out to the bay of windows lining the outer wall of the area. The entire thing was kept in shadow, looking like a ventilation opening rather than an impromptu sniper’s nest. The structure was rather small, a spherical perch with a sturdy metal bottom and covered in a dark mesh that provided a small amount of soundproofing. Half the structure was encased in the ceiling, providing minimal cover and an assortment of odd functions Tony had decided to include. Clint had a full arrow locker and a small cache of knives and a handgun in case things got real bad, as well a small fridge for provisions that Jarvis made sure was stocked by a small robot every now and then. The structure itself couldn’t be entered from the outside without cutting through the mesh, or from the small hatch in the ceiling that connected to the vents. Dressed in a dark shirt and pants, there was virtually no way any of the guests below could see Clint in the perch.

“You know, you really should come down and relax Barton, I’m sure you could find you can have fun with other people if you tried.” Natasha’s cool voice cut through Jarvis’s helpful comments about the guest list. Clint looked to his right, seeing her by Tony’s bar. She looked lovely in a sleek black dress and sensible heels. She caught his eye, sipping her drink before acknowledging a man who was trying to get her attention.

“You’ll end up having enough fun for the both of us Nat. You know I’m still not comfortable around other people.” Clint settled back in his perch, one knee brought up to his chest and the other tucked under him. He gripped his bow in one hand, looking out over the party below. Tony mingled with a few business and Rhodes, laughing at some joke or other. Thor was impressing a group with mighty feats of…drinking, while Bruce was sitting at the bar looking very uncomfortable. Steve, Bucky and Sam were sitting with a group of men who looked suspiciously like military personnel, all of them looking rather relaxed. He noticed Fury and Hill talking to some people in a corner near the windows as well. As Clint kept watch over his friends, he allowed Jarvis to filter into his aids, letting him listen to what the AI heard, the AI filtering the conversations to let him listen to ‘relevant’ fragments.

_“Is Barton not coming?” “Barton’s here, he just doesn’t do well in crowds anymore.” “I see…”_ Clint blinked in surprise, he hadn’t realized that Bucky would’ve wanted to see him. The assassin had been remanded into Steve’s ‘custody’ for rehabilitation, living with Steve on a floor of the Tower. Bucky had been talking to the other’s more, but Clint hadn’t noticed anything from Bucky to show the assassin wanted to be friends, rather than just acquaintances. They both trained in the special training rooms Tony had remodeled in the Tower for his new ‘roommates’. Bucky helped Clint work on his hand to hand, Clint helped Bucky learn archery.

_“… S.H.E.I.L.D. would be more than happy to look over the reports. Just forward them to Miss Hill and we’ll give you our best opinion in regards to the matter.”_ Good old Fury, looking for new connections for S.H.I.E.L.D.

_“…So can you really turn into the Hulk? A small guy like you doesn’t seem that tough to me.”_ Clint looked over at Bruce, watching as Banner’s expression turned more and more uncomfortable as the snobbish businessman sitting next to him kept pestering him about his ability to turn into the Big Guy. “Nat, damage control for Banner.”

“On it.” Natasha swept over, sitting down next to the businessman and charming him away from his interrogation of Bruce. “Ah the beautiful Black Widow! Truly your abilities are wasted on a team like the Avengers....” Clint watched as Nat’s expression stayed carefully neutral, taking the brunt of the man’s attention as Bruce slipped away.

_“Jarvis, tell Clint I said thanks.”_ Clint smiled as Bruce threw a grateful glance his way. He settled back and let himself drift off, listening to the chatter in the room below him.

An hour passed before Jarvis interrupted Clint’s vigil. The party below was still in full swing, Thor letting people try to pick up Mjolnir as the rest of the team looked on. “Master Barton, I’m sorry to interrupt your rest but there’s an intruder in your quarters. Would you like to deal with it or shall I alert the others?”

Clint opened his eyes, trying to think of who could want to mess with me. When he couldn’t come up with a suspect, he sighed. “No it’s alright Jarvis I’ll head down and deal with it myself.”

“Very good, sir.”

Clint reached up and opened the hatch to the vents, hoisting himself up and grabbing his quiver from the area above. He slung his quiver across his back and started crawling his way through the vents.

“How’s it looking Barton?” Natasha’s voice filtered into his ears.

“Everything looked fine, I’m going to get some shut eye and leave the rest to you Nat. Make me proud.” Clint reached one of the many service shafts that Tony had set up for him, grabbing one of the ladder rungs that were set up on each side and climbed out of the penthouse vent. He set his bow in the quiver, and started the climb down to his floor.

“Have a great rest Barton. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself. I’ll be looking forward to a nice chat in the morning about it.” Nat’s voice was amused before Clint heard the faint click of a comm switching off.

“The hell does that mean?” Clint grunted as he climbed down the service shaft.

Tony had set up the Tower so each member of the Avengers team had their own personal floor, with a few R&D labs and medical bays scattered throughout. Clint’s floor was actually a few below Tony’s penthouse, and he had been allowed unrestricted access to the balcony and roof. His own floor had a spacious living area and small kitchen, a guest room (as if he had guests who weren’t on the team), a small office and library, and his large airy room.

Clint reached his vent system and moved into the opening. He looked out of the vent openings as he passed, noting that his living room and office were clear even if they were a bit messy with his trick arrows strewn about. He should really get around to labeling those things. As he passed the guest room he noticed the boxes he had moved in for storage seemed to be opened and rummaged in. That just left his bedroom, unless his intruder thought that hiding in one of his closets was a spectacular idea. He looked out of the first vent to his room he found, cursing to himself that he couldn’t look out into the whole room from here. Oh well, he’d just have to wing it.

He took his bow and an arrow in hand before opening the vent. He nocked the arrow and dropped down to the floor below, landing on his plush carpet and immediately drawing the bow as he faced the rest of the room.

“Why hello handsome! I bet you’re wondering, why the bed?” Deadpool’s cheerful voice drifted through the room from his position reclining on Clint’s bed. “It’s so we don’t have to move very far for the fun. I sure hope you got that reference Legolas.”

Clint had spent the few days after Christmas and before the party trying his damnedest to forget the whole ‘Christmas vent’ incident as Natasha had taken to calling it. She had seemed rather happy about it, congratulating him on his attempt to form a relationship outside of work, whatever that meant. The ‘presents’ Deadpool had left him were just a bunch of homemade Deadpool merchandise, so Nat had no trouble figuring out what had happened. So far she had agreed to keep it from the others, knowing how the team would treat such a serious security breach, but she had been pestering Clint in her own quietly intense way to contact the mercenary. She believed that Clint had somehow gained some sort of feelings for the mercenary (based on the sole fact that he hadn’t alerted the rest of the team about Deadpool infiltrating the Tower, let alone the night they shared in the vents), and seemed to want Clint to reach out to the mercenary and form…something with him. _“You don’t have to marry him Clint, just see if he wants to eat out sometime. Maybe even see about doing a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission together. He does contract work for us sometimes. It’ll be good for you, and maybe you’ll be a positive influence on him.”_

The whole thing was rather embarrassing for Clint. He hadn’t really thought of men in a sexual way before, let alone Deadpool, but the whole incident opened his eyes to a lot of things he never knew about himself. Like, a leather fetish, getting aroused by (Deadpool’s) hands on his neck, how nice Deadpool’s voice was… And how nice it was to be able to sleep a night through with someone else sharing the responsibility of keeping watch. Clint shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. He looked over to the red leather clad mercenary lounging on his bed, noting that the trademarks katanas were resting against the wall by Clint’s bed, and the mercenary’s belt and two rather large handguns were laying on the side table next to Clint’s clock.

“I’m not sure I want to get that reference, Wade.” Clint relaxed his stance, letting the tension out of his bow and lowering it. He turned his back on the mercenary and moved to the hand carved wardrobe Nat had gotten him a few years back for his old apartment, opening it up and revealing that it had been made into a personal weapons locker. Clint put his quiver into its proper place, unclipped the small combat knife he had strapped to his leg and returned it to its empty space in the wardrobe. His bow was placed in the center, a metaphor for his life it seemed. “What’re you doing here Wade?”

Silence answered Clint. He closed the wardrobe and turned around, finding that as he had stripped himself of weapons, Wade had moved from the bed to stand behind him. The mercenary crowded Clint’s space, filling his senses with… Wade. There was just no other way to describe it. The slight musk, blood and gunpowder smell that Clint had automatically come to associate with Deadpool after their midnight vent rendezvous filled his nose, the sight of the leather clad form made Clint want to reach out and run his hands over the mercenary. The silence made Clint remember the tenderness that Wade had treated him with before Clint had fallen asleep last time, the concern that Wade had shown him when the mercenary had noticed how Clint was running on fumes.

“Are you alright Wade?” While the silence was a welcome change from the mercenary’s normal behavior, Clint knew something had to be wrong for Wade to be this silent. Clint reached up to touch Wade’s arm, to make sure the mercenary was still there with Clint. He knew about Wade’s ‘lapses with reality’ as the S.H.I.E.L.D. file so kindly labeled it, how the mercenary heard ‘boxes’ (like comic narrative boxes supposedly) that led to the file labeling the mercenary as a moderate schizophrenic. Clint honestly hated the way the personnel files influenced how other agents treated you. He usually just looked at the notes made by the agents who had worked with that person, following their advice in regards to the person. In Wade’s case, many agents found that simply getting his attention and reminding him of the task at hand worked wonders. Ignoring the ‘boxes’ comments worked great too.

Wade’s hand flew up as Clint reached out, gripping his wrist just shy of being painful. The expressive spandex mask was neutral for once, looking at their hands. “You called me Wade.”

“You asked me to last time, remember?” Clint kept his voice neutral, wondering if maybe Wade had forgotten or had a lapse during the time between Christmas and New Year’s. He didn’t understand how the mercenary really viewed reality, so he realized that maybe Wade thought the vent incident had been a hallucination.

As Clint was reassessing their last interaction, Wade tugged his arm closer, making Clint snap back to the situation at hand. “See the boxes and I thought I had hallucinated that. Was too good to be true. Thought it was a great Christmas gift to myself really.” So Wade was so out of touch that he couldn’t tell reality from hallucinations? Clint realized that maybe Nat was right, maybe he could help Wade, just probably not in the way she had thought.

“It was most definitely not a hallucination Wade. I’d like to think better of that night than just a simple hallucination. Full on reality warping it was.” Clint reached with his other hand to grab Wade’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had felt the leather on his skin. Nope, not a hallucination if it got him half hard already just remembering it. Clint felt an arm snake around his waist, a broad hand grabbing his and pulling him flush against a hard chest encased in that damned leather.

“Well that changes matters entirely Legolas. See I came here thinking I was going to have another great hallucination, but if it was reality…well, let’s go ahead and pick up where we left off last time.” Clint opened his eyes again, taking in the masked face somehow wearing one of the raunchiest expressions Clint had seen.

“Only if you never wear that expression again. With the mask it’s just creepy.”

“Of course sweetums, your wish is Deadpool’s command! Now let’s get to ringing in the New Year properly…with sex. Lots and lots of sex.” Wade’s cheerful voice seemed at odds with the almost desperate grip he had on Clint. The hand gripping Clint’s wrist was almost bruising in pressure now, the arm around him not letting Clint move.

Clint moved his hand from Wade’s shoulder, moving to the bottom of Wade’s mask. He slowly started rolling it up, revealing a defined jaw and chapped lips. Clint stopped at Wade’s wounded noise, leaving the mask rolled up over Wade’s nose. The revealed skin was scarred and uneven, like it hadn’t healed quite at the same pace. Wade’s lips were pressed into a tight line, the hand on Clint’s wrist pressing tight enough that the bones were starting to protest. “No more Clint. I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I wouldn’t regret this just because of your skin Wade. Give me a bit more credit than that.” Clint stroked the fingers of his free hand along Wade’s exposed cheek, exploring the uneven texture of the scars.

“You say that now Katniss, but I know you wouldn’t be saying that if you saw everything.” Despite the teasing tone that Wade used, it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to cover his face back up. Clint didn’t understand, on Christmas Wade had been fine showing this much of his face so Clint could maybe read his lips. But now that Clint was able to really explore Wade’s features, the mercenary wanted nothing more than to hide again.

Clint gave a soft noise, resolving to help Wade get his confidence about his appearance back. Even if it took forever, he’d get the mercenary to feel comfortable enough with him to take off his mask, to relax and be himself without hiding. “What I see now looks fine to me Wade. We can work our way up to more later. This is more than enough for now.” He leaned up and pressed his lips to Wade’s in a rather chaste kiss. Wade let out a soft whimper, his hand around Clint’s wrist spasming before letting the wrist go. Clint moved his freed hand to frame Wade’s face with his other, his thumbs gently stroking Wade’s exposed cheeks. He moved his lips slightly against Wade’s chapped ones, running his tongue over the seam of Wade’s mouth before pulling away to examine Wade’s ‘expression’.

Before Clint could move too far away, Wade’s now free hand moved up to grip the back of Clint’s neck, bracing his head as Wade moved in to renew the kiss with vigor. As Wade covered Clint’s lips with his, he rolled his hips into Clint’s, forcing Clint to give access to his mouth with a gasp. Clint kept stroking Wade’s cheeks with his thumbs, grinding back against Wade. The mercenary growled into the kiss, desperation setting in as it turned to biting down Clint’s jaw and neck. Clint moaned as Wade attacked his neck, the mercenary growling as he bit down. Clint felt the mercenary’s arms move down his back, the broad hands reaching his thighs and gripping, hoisting him up. Clint wrapped his legs around Wade’s trim waist, giving a strangled whine at how much better the position was. Wade pressed him against the carved doors of the wardrobe, grinding roughly into Clint, the partially masked head falling to Clint’s shoulder as the mercenary groaned at the friction.

“Keep it tight there Clint.” Clint tried to focus before feeling the hands leave his thighs, tightening his legs around Wade’s waist as he realized what the mercenary meant. The gloved hands gripped the bottom of Clint’s shirt, tugging the fabric up Clint’s broad chest. A hand moved back down to grab Clint’s ass, steadying him. Clint thrust forward against Wade’s hard length, raising his back off the wood behind him to let Wade finish tugging the shirt off. Wade threw the shirt to the floor, pushing Clint back against the wood with his free hand as he dipped his head down to lick at Clint’s chest. A tongue ran over Clint’s collar bone and the plane of his pecs. The chapped lips wrapped around a nipple, a hint of teeth making Clint moan loudly and grind against Wade in desperation.

The mercenary chuckled, moving over to give Clint’s other nipple the same treatment. Clint moved a hand to the back of Wade’s head, his nails digging in to the spandex. Clint pushed his torso forward, making Wade stumble backwards a little as he lost balance. “Keep going Wade, almost to the bed now.” Clint’s voice was wrecked, half whining the words out as he tried to direct Wade to fall back on the bed. Finally the mercenary’s legs hit the bed and the couple fell on to the soft mess of sheets that Wade had reduced the bed to before Clint arrived. Wade moved his hands up to grip Clint’s hips, helping the archer grind their lengths together.

Clint reached a hand down and undid his pants, reaching a hand in to free his cock. He hissed at the feeling of skin on his cock, stroking it a few times and rubbing his thumb across the head, smoothing around the pre-cum that had gathered. Wade had stilled beneath him, watching Clint stroke his own cock. The archer took advantage of Wade’s distracted state to reach his free hand down and unzip the leather pants, reaching a few fingers in to touch the length trapped inside before Wade’s gloved hands flew up to still Clint’s hands, keeping the archer from touching either cock.

Wade sat up on the bed, forcing Clint to move back a bit on his knees. The mercenary shimmied a bit out of his leather pants, moving them down just enough to let his rather impressive cock escape the tight confines of the leather. The length was covered in the same scars as Wade’s face, an uneven texture that Clint couldn’t find repulsive, instead only thinking of how that might feel pumping in an out of him. The thought alone made Clint moan, reaching a hand out to try to touch the length in front of him.

Wade grabbed his hand before it got far, grabbing Clint’s free hand and moving both behind his back. Wade used a hand to grab Clint’s ass and squeeze, pushing the archer forward until the lengths were side by side. The mercenary groped at the bedside table, opening a pouch and grabbing something before taking both of Clint’s wrists in one broad gloved hand. In his other hand he held a small package, bring it up to his lips to rip it open before dribbling the contents over their cocks. Wade threw the package to the side before gripping both cocks in one gloved hand.

“You honestly keep lube in your belt?” Clint threw his head back and moaned as Wade started stroking both their cocks, the leather sliding over them both with the help of the lube. “Who does that Wade- Oh god—“

Wade licked the archer’s neck, mouthing at a bite that was starting to bruise from earlier. “The prepared ones do Clint. I mean really, haven’t you been out in the field and really wanted to jack off, but it’s just so dry and you know it’s just going to chafe? Have to be prepared for everything.” Wade kissed his way along Clint’s neck and jaw. “And Wade is fine sweetums, don’t need to be bringing another guy into all this.”

Clint tried to reach up to grab at Wade’s face, finding the mercenary’s hold on his wrists was like steel. He whimpered and squirmed against the hold, hearing a soft moan come from Wade as he thrust forward in an attempt to get free. Clint rolled his hips forward again and again, hearing a strangled moan come from Wade at the action. The hand stroking at their cocks tightened, picking up the pace. Wade found Clint’s lips in a desperate frenzy, biting at the bottom lip before plunging his tongue inside Clint’s mouth. As the kiss deepened, the strokes got rougher and off beat, the couple thrusting into the gloved hand’s tight grip. The kiss swallowed a strangled moan, neither party caring who it came from.

Wade broke off the kiss to nip his way down to Clint’s neck again. “Come on Clint, show me how much you enjoyed this—“

Clint raggedly thrust up against Wade’s cock in his grip, throwing his head back and whimpering as he reached the edge, only to draw the whimper into a loud moan of Wade’s name as the mercenary bit down harshly on Clint’s neck, forcing the archer to tumble over the edge and into orgasm. As Clint’s cum splashed over Wade’s hand and their stomachs, the mercenary growled again and joined him, his cock throbbing alongside Clint’s as they came down from their high. Wade released his neck and moved to lazily kiss Clint, the faint taste of blood not nearly as off putting as Clint should have found it. The archer gave a weak moan into the kiss, slumping forward as Wade released his hands.

They sat together on the bed for a bit, evening out their breathing before Wade rolled him over to lay on the bed. Wade moved to the edge of the bed before standing up and padding quietly over to the bathroom door at the other end of the room. The soft bathroom light turned on before the door was closed, the sound of water running in the sink lulling Clint into a doze. He didn’t register Wade returning until he felt a cool cloth cleaning him off, rough hands tugging off his pants and boots, tender touches prodding his neck. Clint felt the bed dip next to him, a warm body climbing in with him.

“…You don’t mind if I stay, do you?” Wade’s voice was hesitant in the cool darkness of Clint’s room.

Clint opened his eyes and saw Wade wearing an old long sleeve shirt of his, a pair of Clint’s ratty old gloves covering his hands. The mask was still on, but Wade hadn’t made any move to tug it down to cover his mouth again. The small frown on the mercenary’s exposed mouth made him look vulnerable, and Clint promised to himself again that he would help Wade learn to be comfortable with himself around Clint. “Of course Wade. No one will bother us here, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“...You’re going to regret saying that one day, just watch.” Clint closed his eyes again, giving a soft hum as Wade gathered him up in his powerful arms. “Sleep well Clint. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Clint gave a pleased grunt as he felt Wade gently take out his aids, before finally falling asleep to silence and Wade.


End file.
